


Various OneShot Collection

by ScarletDestiny



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Angst, Everyone is so sad what did I do, I'm awful at tagging, Jace is a wreck, Multi, Not much comedy I'm sorry, One Shot Collection, mentions of depression and suicidal thoughts, please read at your own risk, seriously lots of angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-21
Updated: 2019-07-21
Packaged: 2020-07-10 01:45:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 2,912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19897843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScarletDestiny/pseuds/ScarletDestiny
Summary: A collection of short oneshot solos, all told from either Jace's or Alec's perspective. These are based off of ideas I wrote for Twitter roleplay, so they aren't in any particular order and are meant to be read independently.If you're interested in some quick, good angst, then look no further! This is a whole angst-fest right here.





	1. Those Lies We Weave

**Author's Note:**

> Greetings, fellow awesome nerd who clicked on this collection of random oneshots!
> 
> All of these take place at different times within the timeline of SH show. There are a few scattered book references, but nothing too obscure. As mentioned, these solos are not meant to be read in conjunction with one another - they stand independently, even though there may be a few common themes.
> 
> If there is any interest for me to expound on a particular oneshot, please drop a comment and let me know! I'd love to satisfy a fanfic reader's thirst for more reading material.

Truth, much like the law, is intended neither to be bent, nor broken. It exists in the white hues of pure marble and the pitch blackness of the dead of night. Grey areas are not permitted. 

To a large extent, Alec would have considered himself to be a rather honest individual. Closed off, difficult to read, would rather avoid people than be in any near capacity, certainly. Though he rarely shied away from sharing his own opinion, especially when the lives of those few people he cared about were in danger. 

But truth is often choked by the thorns of falsehood. 

For the fourth time that week, he found himself up on the roof, attempting to avoid any type of social interaction. If he had to spend one more second catching the not-at-all-subtle looks shared between Jace and Clary, or watching Simon drool over his sister, he was going to shoot someone. 

The chill in the night air was enough to make him shiver slightly under his jacket, but he was resolute and determined not to seek shelter until absolutely necessary. Craning his neck back, he could just make out the dim pinpricks of a few stars stubborn enough to force their light through the clouded and polluted sky. 

Allowing his mind to drift, he couldn’t help but draw similarities between the stars and his own life. Those bright stars that overshadowed the dim, almost invisible specks of light that surely existed but were wreathed too deeply in shadows to see clearly. It wasn’t their fault they shone brighter, were more readily noticeable. 

But what about the dimmer stars, tucked farther away in the galaxy? If given the chance, couldn’t they shine just as splendidly? 

If anyone bothered to notice them. 

As the thought struck, he couldn’t stop himself from thinking of his earlier conversation with Izzy. Until recently, he had thought he understood his place in the world, what was expected of him. Some stars were never intended to shine as brightly. 

But now...Now he wasn’t entirely certain what to think. 

Magnus Bane had entered his life, and from the span of one heartbeat to the next, Alec felt himself uncomfortably untethered from everything he had thought he knew. 

Faster than he could blink, his entire world had tilted. Possibly rightening itself, or else simply becoming more skewed. He hadn’t yet decided. 

What he did know was that he hadn’t been prepared to suddenly be dragged out of the shadows, to be told he didn’t just have the potential to shine, but already did. It was...disconcerting. 

And yet...maybe it wasn’t the worst thing ever to be noticed.


	2. What Dreams May Come

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Takes place at some point after season 3's mid-season finale. Brushes with death are all too common for Shadowhunters, but almost dying at the hand of his possessed Parabatai leaves Alec more rattled than he would admit.

It was as though all the heat had been leached out of the world in a vacuum. Surprisingly, at least to his mind, most disconcerting feeling was not, in fact, the agonizing pain from the arrow that now inched closer to his heart. Each breath was harder than the last, raspy and wet and he knew he was dying. 

The strangest part wasn’t even that it was Jace killing him. No not Jace - never Jace. That thing that had was controlling him. That servant of Lilith’s, the Owl. Really, not the most clever of names, but he supposed that was not the thought that mattered in his last few breaths. 

Absolution was the only thing he had now to offer, so he did, repeating those words like a mantra even when his throat seemed to close up and the words couldn’t be forced out. ‘It wasn’t you. I’m okay. You didn’t do this.’

Then Magnus had shown up just in the nick of time, and Alec had known without a doubt that everything would be alright now. Even if he died here in this dirty alleyway, one of his own arrows protruding from his chest and stealing the last remains of life from his body. Even as every bone in his wrist felt as though it had been shattered beyond any sort of healing. Even as his soul was being strained to the point of tearing at the seams. 

It would be alright. Jace was back - he was alive. 

And at least he could die with Magnus holding his hand. 

But the part of his brain that had not yet resigned itself to death screamed at him that he couldn’t go out this way. This wasn’t how life was meant to be. If he died now, he was leaving his family in tatters; leaving the Institute to who knows what type of leadership next. Leaving the love of his life long before was fair. 

Death was a possibility even time he stepped out of the Institute on a hunt, he had known that his entire life. Shadowhunters died young, it was simply a fact. And yet, never before had he considered the unjust nature of that law. Now, if there had been enough energy left in his limbs to stand, he would have climbed onto the nearest rooftop and screamed for all he was worth. He deserved better than this.

It was a selfish thought, but there it was. But he was dying, he could afford to be a little selfish.

The darkness creeped upon him even as he tried to force his eyes to stay open, tried his best to summon whatever energy remained in his body as Magnus pleaded with him to stay. He longed to apologize for failing, for not being able to stay. But the words were lost someone in the recesses of his mind as darkness claimed him. 

And then he felt nothing.

***

Gasping for air, he bolted upright. His chest blossomed in pain, but he glanced down, fully expecting to see his arrow still lodged near his heart, there was nothing. 

It took his mind another moment to catch onto the fact that he was no longer in the alley, lying on the stone in a puddle of his own blood. No, there was moonlight streaming through familiar curtains, bathing the silken sheets now pooled at his waist in an ethereal glow. 

He was home. It was a realization in stark contrast with the memory he had been reliving. Never again had he imagined he would feel safe. 

Restless energy continued to pound through his veins as the scene continued replaying over and over in his mind, until he felt the lines between memory and reality becoming blurred once more. A choked sob, not unlike the blood he could remember bubbling up in his mouth, escaped him as he tried valiantly to hold onto some sense of reality.

A warm hand on his elbow suddenly tilted the world before his eyes, and for a moment he could see clearly. 

“I’m alright,” he responded, turning his gaze to glance at his beloved who was clearly fighting against sleep, no doubt having sensed Alec’s turmoil. “It was just a dream.” 

Magnus frowned in response, not believing the obvious lie, but not pushing the point either. Alec was grateful - he didn’t want to talk about it again. He was tired of talking about it, of having the same demons haunt his dreams night after night that they took over his waking life as well. 

Without a word, Magnus tugged him back down to the bed. Alec complied, knowing the points of contact between himself and his fiance would help alleviate some of his current fears. After all, the night was basically routine by now. 

He knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep again that night, but at the moment it didn’t matter. Lying in bed with Magnus, he had never felt safer. 

The demons could take everything else away from him, but they could never take away this love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is one specific oneshot that I wouldn't mind adding to. I have ideas for a few more chapters, so if there's any interest I may write them and post a separate story.


	3. My Mind is a Battlefield

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Takes place after season 3's mid-season finale. 
> 
> Alec suffers from PTSD and has difficultly pushing through phantom pain and mental scars long enough to string his bow.

Dim light from the flickering fluorescent light cast shadows over the training room floor. As it was still rather early in the morning - some would consider three o’clock in the morning to still, in fact, be nighttime - Alec had forgone turning on all of the lights. Not wanting to catch anyone’s attention, though the only shadowhunters still awake were either on patrol or in the Ops Center filing reports and watching the screens for demonic activity. 

Since he was young, there had always been an appeal to training when no one else was around. Perhaps it was because he felt if no one could see, it mattered less if he slipped up - not that he made a habit of doing such things. 

But for what he was about to do tonight, he knew he would need absolute privacy. 

Already he had been standing in front of the weapons rack for twenty minutes, trying to get up the nerve to simply reach out a hand and pick up - or at the very least touch - his bow. So far, the closest he had gotten was about an inch away, his hand hovering just over the leather hand grip. 

It was a foolish thing to fear. He couldn’t say how often he had repeated those words to himself in the past few minutes alone, trying every combination of words he could think of to steel himself to just pick it up. It was a good thing no one was around because those words of motivation had quickly turned into him muttering curses underneath his breath each time he got close and lost nerve once again.

Squeezing his eyes closed so hard he began to see stars, he forced his hand to move, gripping the bow and pulling it off the rack before he gave his mind time to realize what his body was doing. This was nonsense. Insanity. He had used this bow so many times before. There was nothing to be afraid of. 

Eyes still closed, he fumbled for an arrow. Muscle memory alone guided his hand to deftly plucking one from the nearest quiver. 

The second his hand had closed around the shaft of the arrow, a shockwave of nervousness swept over his body. His hands began to shake so badly he was certain both items would fall to the ground with a clang. Gritting his teeth, he forced himself to ignore the fear coursing through his mind as he nocked the arrow. 

This was fine. Everything was fine. There was no need to panic. 

Even as he pulled back, hardly even aiming at the nearest target, his chest began to ach. Phantom pain overrode his senses in a matter of seconds as a burning, stabbing pain gripped him. 

As anticipated, both bow and arrow fell to the ground, striking the tiled floor harshly, ringing out a sound of finality. Of failure. 

Backing quickly away from the weapon as if it were a venomous snake intent on striking him, Alec fumbled for the doorknob. The only thought in his mind getting as far away as possible. If he ran far enough, maybe the demons wouldn’t be able to reach him. If he ran fast enough, they would never be able to catch up. 

If he closed himself off, then the pain would have no hold over him.

Leaving the weapon where it laid, he retreated back to his office, determined to forget the events of the morning even as his hands still shook. Each breath became more labored than the last, and he wondered briefly if he was actually being stabbed again. 

Or perhaps he was actually still lying in that alleyway, and everything that had happened recently was simply how his brain was coping with the reality of dying. That would make sense. It would explain why he was trapped in this endless nightmare from which there was no escape. 

At least death would come for him soon.


	4. Destruction and Salvation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This oneshot could take place at multiple points throughout the timeline of the show, so I'll let the reader decide.
> 
> Jace reflects on his feelings for Clary and how she deserves more than he is capable of giving.

Once more he found himself standing on the roof, peering down at the city below. For the past few minutes, he had been attempting to count the cars as they passed below in a rush of bright headlights and incorrigible honking. To no avail - the vehicles were too far away to count with much accuracy. Besides, his mind was focused on other things.

Lately, he had been hiding out up here again at night. The nightmares had varied in the past few weeks, taking on a less murderous tone and instead grew to become ones warped in an unshakeable fear that he could not place the source of. 

Part of him wished Alec would be out on the roof tonight, if only for company if not conversation. About half the time Jace slipped out of bed, careful not to wake Clart, and wandered up in the middle of the night, it was to find his Parabatai already standing there, staring up at the stars. Jace had noticed how Alec never stood too close to the ledge these days, though he had never commented on it. That terrible moment of his brother falling from a ledge was burned into his memory. 

Tonight, however, he was alone with his thoughts. Not normally a position he enjoyed being in. 

The dream that had woken him had been such a swirling mix of unbridled terror and helplessness that he was hesitant to try and pry it apart to find any meaning. Normally, he enjoyed waking up, knowing that Clary was close by. She anchored him when he was like this: lost in his own personal storm. But he didn’t have the heart to wake her. No, better let her sleep and dream peacefully while she could.

Perhaps that was the problem. Not Clary herself - never Clary. But what she represented. He doubted he’d ever get used to the unflinching loyalty she possessed, the way she loved so boldly and passionately. Most days he felt entirely unworthy of that type of love. She was brighter than he, more pure and full of life. One day, he feared, she would awaken and realize that he could give her nothing but sorrow.

Still, he knew that he was selfish and, until that fateful day, he would leech out every bit of love his heart could take, and he would lock it away for when the holder of his heart realized there was no real future to be had with him. He could only hope that day was still far out.


	5. To Love Is To Destroy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Takes place after the conclusion of the show, in a universe where Clary and Jace are still together. 
> 
> Jace and Clary are happily engaged and enjoying a well-deserved vacation in Paris when Jace gets the news that Alec is leaving for Alicante. Feeling lost and betrayed, the news sends Jace into a tailspin of reckless emotions.

It was said that everyone had their breaking point: when they reached a stage in life that just felt too insurmountable to overcome. Jace couldn’t pinpoint with any level of accuracy what had led him to this highly inadvisable course of action. 

Leaving Clary alone in Paris was bad enough, but taking off alone, going rogue - it was pure insanity. He didn’t feel insane, though what constituted as feeling insane he didn’t know. No time to put research into that matter.

It was with a numb certainty that he had decided what needed to be done. Entirely unplanned, of course, Jace Herondale wasn’t accustomed to making plans and following through on them. His destination when leaving the apartment had been to go find Clary, to try and explain why he had been acting so oddly the past few days, to try and fix things before it was too late. 

He stopped short a little way off, a strange sense of loathing snaking through his veins once he recognized who Clary was with: Alec. Of course. He should have figured - he had been radio-silent for a few hours, so  _ of course _ Clary voiced her concerns to his parabatai, and  _ of course  _ Alec had dropped everything and come running. 

It was a startling moment of realization, one that propelled him to turn on his heel and walk back the way he had come, with no firm destination in mind. 

How could he not have seen it earlier? Or perhaps he had always known, but had simply tried to ignore the unease and pretend the indestructible Jace Herondale was just as fine as always. 

But it was staring him in the face now, forcing him to confront the ugly truth: he was a burden, and his presence alone was holding everyone back from reaching their potential. He was a leech, sucking out the good in everything and turning it to miserable grey ash. A cosmic joke.

In that moment, all he knew was that he needed to get as far away from everyone he cared about as quickly as possible, before he brought more harm down upon their heads. In hindsight, it was easy to see the trail of destruction and misery he left in his wake. But he had purposely blinded himself to it. 

Valentine’s words rang in his head, “To love is to destroy.” 

All this time, he had imagined that it meant destroying his own sense of self, destroying his potential for greatness. No. That was wrong. He could see that now. 

To love meant to destroy the beauty and goodness in everything you cherish, to make it as dark and miserable as yourself. 

Well he refused to destroy any longer. Leaving was the only option - saving everyone he loved more than life itself from himself. They couldn’t be hurt if he wasn’t around to love them. 

Where he would go, he hadn’t yet decided. Destination wasn’t the point, only running. 

And if it turned out he couldn’t run quite fast enough, if the demons that whispered constantly in his ear had their way and tried to cause more harm to what he loved, then there was an easy permanent solution. No angel could save him this time. 

To love is to destroy, but he was already shattered.


End file.
